


je ne sais quio

by highboys (orphan_account)



Category: No. 6, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domesticity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/highboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion is fussy (sort of) and Nezumi's words are without bite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	je ne sais quio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nigiyakapepper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigiyakapepper/gifts).



Nezumi is halfway through tugging on his shoes in the entryway when Shion pokes his head from the living room and makes a distressed noise.

"No," says Shion, apropos of nothing, like his vehemence stems from some deeply rooted and completely justifiable reason. Nezumi doesn't even raise an eyebrow or roll his eyes anymore; he stares at the ceiling instead.

"You know, sometimes you say things and look at me like you expect me to know things when I don't," says Nezumi, calmly injecting as much mockery as he could get away with. "Like, say, right now."

"Your shirt," Shion clarifies, crossing the floor with his laughable slippers, baby blue and bunny-eared at his toes. "It's wrinkled."

He holds out his hand, expectantly, and Nezumi sighs. "I'll never understand you," says Nezumi, shrugging off his shirt.

"You live in a perfectly functional house with appliances that could make life easy for you," Shion grouses. He takes Nezumi's clothes in hand and walks off to find the ironing board, or at least a fresh shirt. Nezumi follows. "Why don't you use anything?"

"I'm better at navigating the TV than you are," Nezumi counts off with his fingers. "And the phone, and the dishwasher, and, hey, whatever happened to that mixer you were struggling with last week?"

"You're so stubborn," says Shion. He dumps the shirt in the laundry basket they pass in the hallway. "And we're not talking about household appliances I may or may not have victimized long ago. We're talking about your abysmal cleaning skills."

"I vacuum," Nezumi hazards. He enters their room and opens the closet. "Sometimes."

"Your poor bookshelf," says Shion, smiling as he pulls out a wifebeater and a jacket. "And your cluttered desk."

"Fuck you," says Nezumi, good natured as always, as he yanks on the proffered items.

"Maybe later," says Shion. He loops a scarf around Nezumi's neck, making a mess of his hair. "Don't you have errands to run?"

"Slave driver," says Nezumi. "Abuser. Maligner of hearts."

"Very articulate," says Shion. "You're amazing."

It's the way he says it, without derision, without qualms, that makes Nezumi pause. He doesn't know what it is, that excites him. He shuts his eyes and huffs, instead. "There better be tea waiting for me when I get back."

"I thought I was the pampered one," says Shion. He brushes his thumb against Nezumi's white throat, the swell of his Adam's apple barely noticeable even as Nezumi swallows.

"You still are," says Nezumi. He catches Shion's wrist, strokes the back of his hand. "You'll never get on without me."

"I can't imagine that happening," says Shion, steering him out of the room and into the hallway. "But for posterity's sake, I wish you had more faith in my self-sufficiency."

"Theoretically, I could always choose not to come back when I go out," Nezumi complains.

"You can," says Shion, "but you won't. You'll come back here, eventually."

"Only for food," Nezumi concedes.

"Don't forget the milk, dear," says Shion, dryly, and pushes him outside.

 


End file.
